


Mutual Disdain

by afteriwake



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-30
Updated: 2015-08-30
Packaged: 2018-04-18 01:31:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4687358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afteriwake/pseuds/afteriwake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock and Toby have never really liked each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mutual Disdain

**Author's Note:**

> So I hadn't planned on writing a story for this particular piece of art first (I had others), but I saw this piece of fanart by **[rebka18](http://rebka18.tumblr.com/post/127895645507/sherlock-and-molly-cuddling-on-the-sofa-and) ** posted on Tumblr today and I swear this story wrote itself. It kind of mirrors my relationship with my mother's cat, in a way. Anyway, I hope you all enjoy it.
> 
> (The link takes you to the original Tumblr post so if you like the art pretty pretty please leave plenty of likes and reblog it!)

There was a war brewing between him and the dark furred feline who occupied Molly’s flat. It had been brewing ever since the evening of his fall, when Sherlock had occupied Molly’s bed for the duration of the stay in her flat. He had summarily turned the cat out of what it turned out was his customary evening sleeping haunt, curled up next to Molly. Molly had assured him it was fine, that Toby would find her in the guest bedroom, but one morning at three in the morning he had woken up to find the cat pawing and meowing at the door, making such a racket that he wasn’t able to sleep until the sun had come up.

He was surprised it hadn’t bothered Molly, but from that moment on he and the cat were mortal enemies.

It didn’t help that Toby had gotten along _splendidly_ with Tom, according to Molly and Mary and the insipid man himself, the few times they had been together and the subject had come up. Molly made mention of it any time he let himself into her flat (always taking care to make sure Tom was nowhere in the vicinity), how Toby seemed to just not take to Sherlock as much as Tom. Sherlock was sure it was an act on the feline’s part, of course; if he’d actually preferred the Meat Dagger then it just showed that Molly had as poor taste in cats as men.

Soon, though, he stopped having to carefully arrange his time at her flat around Tom’s comings and goings because there were fewer of them. He wasn’t entirely shocked when she called the engagement off. He knew before she slapped him in the lab; he’d let himself into her flat and seen the items of clothing and the things he kept in the loo were gone. Toby seemed to be indifferent to Tom’s absences, which he supposed meant he had been right that the preference was all an act.

Then, of course, he’d had to muck everything in his own life up by shooting Magnussen. He’d been sequestered away from the public eye until the day before he was to be shipped off on his one way trip to Russia. His good-byes prior to Molly had been rather rushed, filled with vague promises to call when he could, keep in touch. He’d purposefully kept his visit to Molly till last because he knew she would see through the lies and insist he stay, and he’d been right.

He’d woken up with the smelly tail end of a cat pressed near the top of his head as penance for taking the prime spot on the bed next to Molly. He didn’t care, though; spending a night with her, even though nothing more intimate than a few scattered kisses had happened, had been an immeasurable balm to his soul, and if it had upset his royal feline highness then so be it. He’d be gone for good in a bit anyway.

Didn’t _quite_ turn out that way, though, and now they were at an impasse. He and Molly were _something_ now; they couldn’t not be after that night. He wasn’t sure what they should be, considering what had granted him his reprieve, though he knew what he wanted them to be. And what he wanted more than anything was to spend as much time around Molly as he could. He knew he wouldn’t be able to convince her to spend all her time at Baker Street, though, so he and Toby were going to have to come to an understanding, one way or another.

He was currently relaxing on Molly’s sofa. She had convinced him to stay the night the evening before, so they were much more casually dressed than usual. And she was rather affectionate as she cuddled close, which he found to be quite nice. He was starting to think that, perhaps, today they might move their relationship a step further, and as she made a move to kiss his neck he had hopes it might be in a relatively short amount of time.

And then he saw Toby on the back of the sofa, glaring as only a cat could glare. He glared back and put a hand in front of the cat’s face, partly to block its view and partly to get him to go elsewhere. Toby hissed in response.

Molly pulled away from Sherlock. “Toby?” she asked, turning to the cat. Instantly the angry look seemed to melt off the feline’s face as Molly gave him her undivided attention. Now it was time for Sherlock to make a surly noise. Molly looked over at him, amused. “You two really do not like each other.”

“No, we do not,” he said, crossing his arms since Molly wasn’t pressed against him.

“Well, you should learn to like each other, since I don’t want to get rid of either one of you any time soon,” she said. She pulled away from him, but not before setting Toby in his lap. Sherlock looked at her in surprise and Toby mewed in confusion. “I think I’m going to go take a bath. Feel free to come get me when you’re learned to get along.”

Sherlock watched Molly get up and saunter off towards the loo, then looked down at the cat, who retaliated by flexing his claws into Sherlock’s thighs. “We don’t like each other,” Sherlock said. “That’s been well established. But I want her time and attention when I’m here, just as much as you do. And I want the prime spot in the bed because I’m bigger. But I’ll bribe you with premium cat food, treats and the occasional can of tuna. Understood?”

Toby studied him, tilting his head slightly, and then slowly retracted his claws and then walked off of Sherlock’s lap and curled up in the spot where Molly had sat. Sherlock looked at him for a long moment, waiting for him to do something else, and when he did nothing he assumed that meant the agreement was acceptable. Good. He got up the sofa then and moved towards the loo. Perhaps, if he was lucky, he could convince Molly that he and Toby were on agreeable terms now and a shared shower was in order to celebrate. One could only hope she agreed.


End file.
